"Every brick I take out," cried Jack, as fresh rubbish clattered down the chimney, "brings me nearer my mother. “She has refused to listen to you?” “She has behaved in a most extraordinary manner,” he answered. " "What ho! Blueskin!" shouted Jack. “I feared we might have a fog. But did you ever hear of a djinn in a blue-serge coat? Stitched in!" Something like this was always rushing into his throat; and he had to sink his nails into his palms to stop his mouth. She almost laughed, but repressed her smile lest it seem cruel.
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